Christmas Nostalgia
by pdb
Summary: As Dana faces a Christmas she was not expected to see, she reflects on her past Christmases.


Ornament This: Christmas Nostalgia  
Author: pdb  
Rating: G  
Category: V  
Timeline: Christmas 1997  
Disclaimer: Not mine.  
Archive: Send me a postcard!  
Summary: As Dana faces a Christmas she was not expected to see, she reflects on her past Christmases.  
Response to Haven's Ornament This! Fanfic Challenge.

Monday December 1, 1997

As Dana Scully clicked "Save" and closed the expense report document, she leaned back in the office chair. It was a little after five thirty and definitely time to call it quits for the day. She shut her computer down and gathered her belongings. Standing up, she put on her ankle length wool coat, scarf, and black leather gloves. After swinging the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder and fishing her keys out of her purse, she turned towards Mulder, who sat transfixed by his computer screen.

"I'll see you later, Mulder. Don't work too late."

Mulder looked up from the screen, "Hey Scully, you done for the day? How about grabbing dinner somewhere?"

"Not tonight, Mulder. I just want to go home," she replied with a slight smile.

"Okay. I'm just going to finish up this field report tonight."

"Good night, Mulder," Scully gave him one last glance before taking the elevator to the parking garage.

As she unlocked the door to her apartment, the warmth of her home greeted her wind-numbed nerves. She shed her outerwear, careful to place everything in its rightful place before changing into a pair of well-worn jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. All indications of work removed, she reentered her living room, inhaling the rich, tangy scent of the six foot tall Douglas fir that had taken residence in the corner by the window.

On Saturday, she had impulsively stopped by the temporary outdoor tree stand and purchased the tree at a hefty price of over 75 dollars. Even though she would not even spend Christmas in D.C., she felt the overwhelming need to have her own Christmas tree this year. Not like her practical artificial tree that she put up the last few years, this tree mirrored her renewed sense of life. This Christmas, after all, was one she was never meant to witness. Now, it was truly a celebration of life.

She turned on her stereo system, filling the air with the mellow tunes of Harry Connick Jr. His Christmas CD, one she bought almost three years ago, brought back memories of her earlier Christmases in this apartment.

Humming along with the music, she padded across the linoleum floor of her kitchen and poured herself eggnog into a clear mug. Forgoing the brandy because of her recent medical history but feeling festive nonetheless, she sprinkled the creamy drink with nutmeg and added a cinnamon stick for aesthetics.

With the mood duly set, she approached the two cardboard boxes. Kneeling in front of the first one, she pulled back the flaps and removed the first layer of newspaper. She smiled softly as she discovered that the first box held the ornaments from her childhood. The first ornament she picked up was appropriately a faded, wooden cut-out tree that someone had written "Baby's First Christmas 1964" across with bright red paint. With a soft smile, she replaced the ornament and lifted the two boxes of string lights from the cardboard box. After testing, unraveling, and connecting the two strands together, she stood on her toes to string the lights on the tree, starting from the top. After making sure the end of the lights was close enough to reach the outlet, she set her focus upon the ornaments.

After hanging the souvenir from her first Christmas, Dana grabbed two boxes of four Christmas balls each. After hanging these balls, she stood back to view her work. Smiling, she reached down into the box. The next ornament brought her back to her memories of the Christmases spent on the San Diego Naval base. Every year, regardless of whether her father was at sea, the Scully family would bundle in their winter coats and gather with the other Navy families for the annual Christmas party and ornament swap.

For three years, Dana Scully had the pleasure to swap her ornament with a young, newly trained naval official, Ensign Mathew Conner, the love of her five-year-old life. After the first Christmas when he kneeled down in front of her in his freshly-pressed naval uniform and received her handmade star of Popsicle sticks and glued-on sequins and glitter, she was at once smitten. He had ceremoniously handed her a miniature lifesaver with the inscription "United States Navy, Christmas 1970."

For the next three years, young Dana slaved over Christmas ornaments for the kind officer to whom she had taken a serious liking. In return, she had received a colorful doll he had purchased in the Caribbean Islands that to this day nestled itself among the boughs of Dana Scully's Christmas tree. The third Christmas, she received a set of six miniature hand-blown ornaments from Canada. As she hung the last of these ornaments, she thought back to what would have been her fourth ornament swap with Mathew Conner. She had poured over construction paper, cotton balls, glitter, and glue to make a Santa Claus face, complete with a full beard. As she had searched the faces at that ornament swap party, her father had told his Starbuck that he had heard that Lieutenant Junior Mathew Conner had recently transferred to another naval base. Heartbroken, Dana refused to participate in the ornament swap at any of the following Christmas parties. The faded Santa Claus face still hung on her tree, an ode to her beloved officer.

Smiling faintly at the pains of childhood heartache, Dana reached into the box and found a handful of the two-dimensional Victorian angels that her grandmother had sent both her and Missy every year. Dana remembered how each year, her and her sister would bicker over which of the two angels in the envelope would belong to which girl. Even as Dana grew into more of a tomboy and her sister into a less family-oriented teenager, the Victorian angel arguments were a constant. After their grandmother had long since passed, as did the growing phases of their childhood, grown Dana and Missy could never agree upon which ornament was whose at the family gathering in their mother's home. This was only the second Christmas Dana had to spend without her sister and only the second time all of the Victorian angels were in her possession. Tears sprung to her eyes as she quietly wiped them away. She took a long sip of her eggnog, trying to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

The last ornaments in the box were the first ones she had purchased when she set up her very own Christmas tree. It was the Christmas after she had completed FBI training at the Academy and started teaching, the first Christmas she spent in this apartment. Not far from Quantico, she had stumbled upon a small holiday store, the kind that smelled strongly of potpourri and scented candles. After perusing the shelves of the store, she had settled upon four ornaments: the first, a simply dressed angel with feather wings; the second and third, two matching birds formed of hand blown glass with straight, nylon tails that resembled fine paint brushes; and the final one, a huge glass ball with a depiction of the Magi following the Star of Jerusalem. As Dana remembered that first Christmas tree and the ornaments she had so carefully placed on it, she felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. Since then, Dana had turned her apartment into her home and found her place in the world.

She pushed the empty cardboard box towards her bedroom before starting on the second box. The first layer of decorations once belonged to her Great-Aunt Dana, who had taken a special liking to Dana for obvious reasons. Although Dana and her family had only visited Great-Aunt Dana Maloney only twice during the Christmas season, Dana had taken an obvious liking to the antique ornaments on her aunt's tree. Dana Maloney must have remembered this because three years ago, shortly before she passed away, she had sent Dana Scully a small package containing her most ornate and most valuable Christmas decorations. As Dana Scully hung the last of these, she remembered the kindness of her great aunt in the few visits they had shared together. She smiled at the memories and said a quick prayer for her late aunt.

The last dozen or so ornaments were newer, their memories more fresh in her mind. For the past four years, ever since Bill Scully passed away, Dana and her mother hand developed the tradition of ornament shopping the weekend after Thanksgiving. From these excursions, Dana hung a collection of miniature nutcrackers, an ornate Italian-imported Santa Claus, who stood over half a foot tall, and matching gingerbread man and woman. One Thanksgiving, they had driven down to Richmond and returned with a set of icicles, much like the ones on her childhood Christmas trees, and a half dozen snowmen with real knitted scarves. Dana should really call her mother, she thought to herself. She could not remember if she had thanked her recently for all her support, especially during her last stay in the hospital.

The last article in the box was the tree skirt, a product of her attempts to learn to quilt during the last half of high school. Her family always laughed at how hideous the tree skirt was and at how she always insisted on using it every Christmas. It was longer on one side, and the stitching had come out of the red patches that represented cottages. The black thread she had accidentally used to piece together the white patches made them look less like fluffy snow and more like pieces of a puzzle. Her stitching had never been very steady.

Next, Dana grabbed the faded strand of metallic red garland, carefully wrapping it around her tree. When she was younger, her father had always insisted upon tinsel, though her mother hated the mess. Dana had never liked how the tinsel seemed to take over the tree, hiding the green branches with the silvery strands. The only ornament left to place on the tree was the angel, which held the most meaning for her. Carefully, she removed the angel from its box and set her on the coffee table, where it would sit until the last Sunday of Advent. In keeping with tradition, the angel only sat on the tree for that final week, the final preparations for the birth of Jesus. This angel was a gift from her father, the Christmas before he had passed away. It wore a burgundy velvet dress, accented with gold cording and cream lace fringe. Its wings ran the length of the angel itself, and the golden halo was slightly crooked but beautiful nonetheless. Unlike most angels, though, this one had long red hair. Her father had mentioned that the auburn hair was what had caught his eye. For the second time that night, Dana wiped tears off her cheeks.

Dana turned off all the lights in her apartment and plugged in the tree. Sitting back on her couch, she smiled at the Christmas memories, both joyful and heartrending, and the fact that she could still make many more memories in the years to come.

Happy Holidays!  
Theresa


End file.
